by GAURAV PUNJ
Running was in the air and when I read on Smrithi’s blog about how they had organized a run for the villagers as a means to get the community together and in turn give them some gyan about not killing pangolins, discreetly of course, I called her up to discuss this idea of mine. We were going to Darjeeling and Sikkim for a nine-day trip, including a four-day trek in Sikkim (next chapter) and were anyway planning to visit Smrithi and her school. So why not do a short run, ostensibly as a preparation for our trek but more as a means to show our support for her.
I always feel that people are invariably on the look-out for a genuine cause to support, where they are sure that their contribution is reaching whom it is meant for. While we were grappling with what or how to contribute – money, clothes, books, gas cylinder – Smrithi came up with an idea: ‘How about donating pressure cookers to the tribal families. Burning wood is their only source of fuel, and since we are trying to get them not to cut the forest indiscriminately, which in turn will save the habitat of pangolins, the only way to reduce consumption of firewood is to reduce cooking time. And pressure cookers reduce cooking time by almost fifty per cent.’ Wow. A lesson learnt for the rest of my life: whenever we take the higher ground and decide to ‘help out’ a group or a village or whatever, it’s best to get the insider viewpoint on what is most practical and effective.
Cut forward to us sipping Darjeeling tea at the omnipresent CCD and discussing pangolins and the run the next day. ‘It’s a small and poor village so keep your expectations low. Smrithi has insisted we eat with her and the kids so our lunch will be there; local cuisine consisting of surprises, is what she said.’ ‘But I’m still not sure how this run will help their cause,’ the ever-practical Janak said. ‘See, it’s like this. When outsiders, especially from Mumbai, come to a small village and support a cause, the message somehow is driven much better,’ I repeated Smrithi’s reply to the same question. ‘And we are running because it’s something that they have already organized once, so there are some locals who will participate, plus it’s a good preparation for our trek and we are anyway missing our Sunday run this week.’ I would have been convinced by these many reasons, I thought to myself.
So we strolled back towards Chaurasta and our hotel, passing the narrow lanes chock-a-block with pedestrians, vehicles and stalls selling mostly woollens and handicrafts, taking in the unique Darjeeling blend of the ultra hip youngsters and the traditionally dressed elders. Once in a while, on the left, through a narrow gap between shops and barbed wire, we could glimpse the sun setting behind a snow-clad Himalayan range and were reminded of what makes Darjeeling so special. The just-like-that sighting of a mighty peak like Kangchendzonga, unlike in any other ‘hill-station’ in India. That and the Chaurasta, a courtyard on top of the observatory hill, which is large, open and most importantly, vehicle free.
The next day began early, with us getting into the cars (which we had hired from Pokhriabong village) and driving till we were 10 km from Pokhriabong. As we got down from our vehicles and started some mild stretching, four shy boys from the village, who would be running along with us, joined us. Nazim, Smrithi’s cousin, was the coordinator and he told us that there is lot of interest in the village about our run and that some local media might even be there. Hmmm, it was getting exciting.
And then, just like that, without a pistol-shot or any major flag-off, we started running. It was our group of twelve and the four boys – who, by the way, disappeared ahead very soon. With a straight face we spoke about not ‘competing’ with them but rather ‘enjoying’ our run through the beautiful forest. As if. But we were enjoying the run for sure; the forest was dense and changed complexion every few hundred metres, the road was devoid of any traffic, and the drivers that had dropped us would go past every few minutes, encouraging us and offering water. It was turning out to be a surprisingly pleasant experience.
The altitude though was a hindrance and quite a few of us resorted to walk-run-walk tactics. And even though Nazim had told us, we were still not prepared for what awaited us as we approached the village.
Every single person from the village, and many from nearby villages, had lined up in the streets leading up to Smrithi’s school, and as soon as they saw us, there was loud cheering, laughing and shouts of encouragement. We were first bewildered, then amused and finally feeling like some major celebrities, started to wave back. Some even picked up their pace to impress the crowd. There were posters everywhere about our group from Mumbai who had come to run and support the ‘Save the Pangolin’ campaign. It got even better when some local reporters appeared and started clicking our pictures. If some of us behaved like Olympic tri-athletes, we should be forgiven.
***
Reality check
Rajiv Sethi with Sarika
Founder, Gemini group of companies
A motley group of people, with different levels of fitness, descended at the border of a sleepy village, an hour’s drive from central Darjeeling. In spite of being equipped appropriately for the ‘cause run’, my size and girth gave no visible clue of my proposed action and intentions to the waiting volunteers from Smrithi’s village school. They attended more anxiously to the fitter, runner-looking types from our group. The long-lens Japanese SLR hanging from my neck, resting lovingly on my Punjabi sign of healthiness and prosperity, must have led them to believe that I was the group’s official photographer. And to top it, the absence of pepper in my salty hair may have supported their assumption that I was not one of the runners from Bombay.
And here I was, neurologically rewired to take on the challenge of doing the hill run – a complete 10 km stretch. A few stretches and a couple of swigs of water to wet my palate and I was set for the jaunt. With good tailwind behind and the pristine loveliness that only the mountains can offer, I set foot on the serpentine roads with reasonable ease. Ambling through at my leisurely pace, I was probably the last to reach the village and severely short of breath – and there was not a soul in sight. Damn!
But as I crossed the last bend, I saw a multitude of villagers and many a child cheering me on as if I were an Olympic runner – my first taste of adulation to my maiden running attempt. What a glorious day and the joy that came from every waving hand and warm smile. I bowed in reverence to the mountains and hugged GP at the school when I met him. He had a part in making me feel like a celebrity runner after all.
***
The final stretch was a steep descent, so most of us had to walk sideways, and then came the grounds of Smrithi’s school, where we again pretended to run very fast, and finally the school with all its kids and Smrithi’s family dressed in their best traditional dresses, to welcome us. Even as we embraced Smrithi and acknowledged the cheers of the kids, we didn’t miss the four boys with medals around their necks, sitting bored because they had to wait endlessly for us to finish.
Eating the fruits given to us we surveyed the scene. In the school’s courtyard there was a small table with some medals, kattas (a white silk cloth traditionally used to welcome people by draping it around their neck, very similar to a Buddhist greeting), and many boxes, which we recognized as the pressure cookers. The entire school (four classrooms, two dormitories) was covered with posters, hand-painted by the kids, providing information about the pangolin and its plight due to diminishing forest cover and hunting. This was one dedicated and creative bunch.
Soon many local women joined us in the courtyard and Smrithi called upon twelve little girls, looking like dolls in their wonderful dresses. Then she read our names out one by one, we went to the table, one girl each put a medal and a katta around our neck and we gave one of the pressure cookers to one of the women. It was simple, efficient and quick. The concept and usage of pressure cookers had already been explained and demonstrated to the local women. And once we were all done, with big smiles conveying their thanks, they left. I don’t know if we looked as hungry as we were, but lunch was announced immediately.
/> We went upstairs to Smrithi’s family home and even as we picked up the different aromas while climbing the stairs, nothing could have prepared us for what lay in her living room. A huge table with not less than fifteen different dishes. Vegetables, curries, salads, rice dishes, breads – it seemed like the entire variety of the Darjeeling hill cuisine was on offer. The patient ones asked her to explain what each dish was while the realistic ones chose to eat first and ask later. For those interested, I’ve given a summary of the food there and Darjeeling cuisine in general at the end of the chapter (and a photograph is on page xv in the inserts).
With the good deed for the day done, and our stomachs full, we turned our attention to Pokhriabong. While running we had seen some very pretty sights around the village and now wanted to explore some of them. Nazim was more than happy to show us around, and soon we were out on a drive/walk in the hills.
Our first stop was a small tea garden and factory, then a picnic spot by a stream where they take the kids sometimes, then a temple on top of a hill (they are always at the top, aren’t they?) and finally by the road just outside the village, where we got out and started walking behind Nazim. Within five minutes we were upon a most delightful scene, straight out of a trek in high Himalaya. Our path was a trail passing through a meadow with green rolling grass, no sign of any road or habitation and plenty of wild flowers around.
Nazim was being secretive and told us that he was taking us to a historic place. It used to be the royal lake or a bath or something like that. We reached the spot in less than ten minutes, and from behind the barbed wire fence we could make out a big depression in the ground filled with weeds. As expected there was a story behind this lake, of two birds – a male and female – who kept it spotless by picking up any leaf that fell in it, but then the male was killed by a shikari, the female died of grief and soon the lake dried and the villagers lost a source of drinking water. It’s always the same theme: let nature be and it will support you, mess with it and you pay
the price.
A quick visit back to the school, tea and some snacks, plenty of photos with the kids, promises of support for Smrithi and a warm goodbye later, we started back (photo with the kids on page xv in the inserts). We didn’t speak much on the way, we didn’t need to. It had been a nice day, in a fulfilling kind of way, very evident from the smiles on our faces. We still hadn’t seen the pangolin, but we had made the tiniest of contributions towards its survival, we had met and interacted with a simple girl doing not so simple things, felt the kindness and warmth of the villagers, maybe even provided them with some laughs, and discovered the beauty of Darjeeling hills, the kind which tourists like us rarely get to see. All in all, a day well spent.
***
Raju, the Guide
Short mein bole toh, Darjeeling is so much more enjoyable when you explore it with an eye and ear for its vibrant history.
More reading
Some easily-available books and guides that I have read and gained from:
Title
Category
Author
Remarks
Lonely Planet Northeast India (2007)
Guidebook
Joe Bindloss
Covers Darjeeling, Sikkim and Arunachal in addition to the other NE states.
What to do in Darjeeling hills
Trekking – There are some easy and short treks around Darjeeling hills and also a relatively longer one over the Singalila ridge, along the border of Nepal and Sikkim.
Chilling out – It’s a super place to chill out, especially in the off-season (January-March, and if you are brave, monsoon time) when the lanes are not crowded and the locals are more relaxed as well. You can choose to stay in the heart of Darjeeling with views of high mountains or in the middle of tea gardens. In any case, a cup of Darjeeling tea and a book is all you need.
Point to be noted
Like many other popular hill stations, Darjeeling becomes very hectic in summer. If that’s the only time you can go there, ensure that you patronize local establishments, whether it’s guesthouses, or shops, or restaurants and not the ‘seasonal’ ones that come during the tourist season and drive the locals away.
Local service providers
Smrithi can be reached at www.riverdaletimes.blogspot.in or more likely at 9733013845 and [email protected]. You can visit and stay at her home, as a homestay, and meet the kids, and if you feel it’s worth it, even support them by sponsoring their education or food, etc. She and Nazim can also advise you about some hidden travel gems in the Darjeeling region.
HELP tourism initiative is a good organization that works with local communities and engages them in tourist activities – www.helptourism.com. They also work extensively in the Northeast.
A guide to local food (Darjeeling hills) by Smrithi
Normal food
Weird food
Bizarre food
– We eat rice, dal, vegetables and meat like everyone else. Preference is rice not wheat.
– Some food we cook at celebrations:
a) Sel-roti: this is a must – fried doughnuts made with rice powder, sugar and cardamom. b) Aloo-dum: all Gorkhas are crazy about aloo-dum.
c) Meat: the people here are mostly non-vegetarian and usually eat pork and chicken; we eat beef and mutton as well, but not too much.
– Stinging nettle soup (they say it is good for patients with a high BP).
– Fermented radish tops called ‘grunduk’ (tastes like the south Indian rasam).
– Kineama: soybean processed like cheese and as smelly!
– Bamboo shoots, both as pickle and curry.
– Pakoras made from pumpkin flower and also buckwheat flour.
– Pancakes made from buckwheat, maize and millet flour.
– ‘Fiddle heads’ of ferns (called ‘ningro’) cooked with cottage cheese.
– Banana flower pickle.
– ‘Lapsi’, a wild berry that grows on trees and is sour to taste. The lapsi pickle is a favourite with almost all Gorkhas.
– The palate of a Gorkha loves the fiery hot dallae chilli.
– Frog-hunting is a great sport. An average guy in a village can go at night and, armed with just a large burning torch and a long pointed wire ‘spear’, can spear about 250 frogs!
– Frog’s eggs. (I find this really yuck). Jelly like lump boiled and fried. (Not toad eggs).
– Honeycomb with bee larvae in it!
– Pickled pig hooves minus the outer covering/shell (trotters).
– Fried wild bee larvae.
– ‘Padhera’ (don’t know the English name of this insect). They make pickle out of it.
– River crabs and snails!
– Beef lungs filled with tsampa and spices !
We don’t eat snakes! Thank god.
Story 9
Sikkim and the Art of Tourism
Hand-drawn maps for representation purpose only. Not to scale.
The setting
Sikkim is conveniently divided into west, central, east and north Sikkim, its small size favouring a clear division and perhaps also the reason behind the efficient administration. As a state it has realized that its strength lies in preserving and showcasing what it has, rather than pretending to be Switzerland or some such thing like so many other Himalayan regions do. So you will find the best-run homestays, monasteries that strike a balance between being tourist attractions and places of learning, and village co-operatives being the primary players in
organizing treks, etc.
West Sikkim is actually Sikkim in a nutshell: it has the high peaks and treks of the north, the monasteries and homestays of the central part, and the tribal villages of the east. From Darjeeling you drive to Jorethang, a sort of gateway to west and central Sikkim, and then through the thick forest and small villages to Pelling or Yuksom or Barsey, the main tourist hubs of the west. Pelling is more of a chill-out, family trip sort of place (and therefore the most crowded), Yuksom, a trekking start point and Barsey has a rhododendron sanctuary for nature lovers. There are many monasteries and model villages (a special initiative to clean and organize a village) in and around these three hubs, and along with some good places to stay (homestays and guesthouses), one can spend a lovely week here.
Not to forget the mountains. Ah, there are views of the mighty Kangchendzonga from almost everywhere and also the equally impressive peaks of Kabru, Kabru dome, Mt Narsingh, and many more.
The stage
The ancient capital of Sikkim, Yuksom, is also one of the most sacred places in the state. And it is now pretty much exhibit A in the art of tourism in Sikkim. It is a sprawling village (not a town yet) in a wide, open valley which has long been on the tourist map for being the starting point of the quintessential Sikkimese trek, from Yuksom to Dzongri, a high altitude meadow, within touching distance of Mt Kangchendzonga and its sentinel peaks.
We reached this village late in the evening and were driven straight to the community hall where we were greeted by young boys and girls from the village, the coordinators for KCC, Kangchendzonga Conservation Committee, one of the many initiatives by the locals to promote responsible tourism. They gave us a brief about the village and the trek, explained how the homestay system worked, told us about ensuring our garbage goes in the right bin, and so on. We had never had such an experience anywhere else in the Himalaya and it strengthened our belief that change will happen only if the stakeholders, i.e. the natives, take things in their hands.